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We hang up, and I return to gazing out the window. Louis has a point about the assassination attempt. There’s a good chance the situation is not so black and white. And Everett Johansson is no angel either. For decades he’s been involved with the mob as he’s grown his entertainment company.
I’m not so naive to believe it’s below him to attempt an out from our business deal by any means possible. Even an assassination attempt. It’d be a bold and foolish move, but he’s not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. It’s how he ended up in debt to the Sorrentino syndicate in the first place.
The work was sloppy and public. Not very mob-like at all. Unless that was by design.
I ponder the possibilities as I pick up my iPhone and check my missed calls. The list grows by the day. My thumb hovers over Giancarlo’s name on the contact list, but I don’t press the call option.
When Falynn and I came to Portofino, I decided I wouldn’t bring our life back home with us. The only exception is my daily call with Louis and a quick briefing and update on any orders I may need to give.
Everything else can wait.
Falynn and I sleep in late. We wake to more sun than we’ve seen in days. My staff rolls in breakfast for us to enjoy on the balcony. We eat in our pajamas. Her curls are piled up atop her head in a messy bun, and she draws her knees to her chest when she sits in the chair. She picks up a flaky croissant and adds butter. She’s always been unapologetic about her eating habits. Something I learned about her right away and have always appreciated.
Most women are too insecure to eat freely around men like me. They think eating like little birds makes them more attractive. What they don’t know is that often there’s charm in watching a woman unapologetically be herself.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” she asks before taking a big bite of the croissant.
“The weather’s much better. I wanted to go for another sail. Would you like to try it again?”
“Our sailing experience was really intense…in more ways than one.” Her brown eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight.
I smirk. “I’ll keep my hands to myself this time.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll skip out. You and the boys go.”
“The boys?”
“You know, your crew.”
“The way you say it, you make us sound like a petty street gang.”
“Are you kidding? You guys would make pickpockets piss themselves.”
“I take pride in that.”
We share an easy laugh and dig into more of the food on the plates.
“I should probably go back to bed,” she says after some thought. “I’m feeling a little sick. Probably the flu or something. It’s November, and it’s been cold out.”
“Didn’t I warn you when—”
“We were walking in the rain, yes, Dad. I know,” she interrupts with both a smile and an eye roll. “You were right, and I was wrong. There’s a first time for everything.”
“You must not have been keeping count if you think it’s the first time you’ve been wrong.”
“All those other times don’t count.”
I laugh and lean over to kiss her lips. “If you’re not feeling well, I’ll stay with you. Take care of you.”
“Your idea of taking care of me is having me face down, ass up. No thanks, Dr. Big Dick McGee. I’ll just take some meds and a nap. By the time you come back, I’ll be fine.”
I can’t even refute her accusation. She’s right—I’d probably wind up between her legs.
After breakfast, Falynn returns to bed. I draw the curtains close in the bedroom and make sure she’s comfortable. I’m not even out of the room before she’s drifting off again. I meet Fozzi and C.J. in the hall.
“I’ll stand post,” Fozzi says. “If Miss Falynn needs anything, I’ll ensure she gets it.”
We head out to the marina. My yacht crew is already waiting, though my usual skipper has been replaced by a new guy named Victor. He welcomes us aboard and briefs us on the journey we’ll be embarking on. In minutes, we’re pulling away from the dock and gliding over the seawater.
The salty air brushes past me and sets me at ease. It’s stuff like that clear my head and help me figure out how I’m going to proceed once our vacation is over and we return to real life. Some time on the sea will do me some good.
“Everything good, Boss?” C.J. asks in his nasally New York accent.
I nod. We’ve slowed down, now adrift the waters. “Couldn’t be better.”
The moment feels surreal as I stare at the open water, and then it all goes away. In less than a blink of an eye, the ship erupts. There’s a deafening boom, and the world spins upside down. My feet leave the ship floor in a swirl of flying debris and flames.
No other thought enters my mind as I smack into the water, and everything cuts to black.
